Mr. Rivera? I know you're there, pick up the phone, dammit

Earlier in the season I gave my blessing to Bruce Babich, the Bears' new defensive coordinator. I said he was ok in my book, that I loved the taste of extra blitzing on my chocolate sundae. I said Ron Rivera was not vital to the cause, and all but spit on his 1985 Super Bowl Ring.

I take it all back. Bruce, you useless pederast, you can go play with Cedric Benson at his make-believe tea party in the back of the locker room where we keep the brooms, old jock straps, and the dead McCaskeys. The both of you can spend your time discovering each other's nubile bodies while the rest of the team goes out and plays football. And Mr. Rivera? I'm sorry for the offense. Please come back and teach our defensive line how to tackle a backup running back. I could look up this guy Morris' first name, but unless it's Mercury, or Boris (and then only for the humorous rhyming), I'm not going to care, or recognize him. And what is a DJ Hackett? I heard his street-ready mix tape was going to drop in December, with Lil Wayne and Lupe Fiasco guesting, but I didn't know he was a No. 1 receiver for the Seahawks.

I will grit my teeth and say one nice thing about Benson, whose mother probably weeps at all the crap that's written about her dear sweet boy. On Sunday he had his longest rushing gain of the season.

But let's come back to reality, where that amazing run was all of 20 yards. If a running back looks at his season, a season where his team trades away their No. 1 back (who again rushed for over 100 yards, by the way) to make way for him, and he sees that he hasn't had a 20-yard run until Week 11, then maybe this is the time of year he starts cutting himself, if only to feel the pain he's inflicted upon fans and fantasy football nerds. Anytime you need a razor blade and a Smiths record, Cedric, give me a call. Hell, I'll put "Last Night I Dreamt Someone Loved Me" on repeat for you.